


Aesopica

by EvilMuffins



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blackmail, Codependency, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, one-sided shukita and akeshu, this isn't a happy story kids, unhealthy eating habits, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: How Akechi managed to smile like that, when he didn’t mean it, when he was empty inside, Yusuke didn’t know. He didn’t want to.---After a fire tears through the Kousei dorms, Yusuke comes to stay with Akechi. No one is better for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Parts of this are definitely influenced by the Fox and the Crow fable. I know it's been done before, but it's incredibly fitting for these two.

_I’m not at all sorry, now that he’s dead,_

_He took my cheese and ate it in my stead,_

_He’s punished by fate - God, you’ve avenged me_

 

 

Although Yusuke had grown accustomed to living in a dwelling with little food, it did seem unusual for an upscale apartment such as Akechi's.

Although such exploration would have out of the question whilst living with Madarame, Yusuke had found himself growing bolder ever since having fallen in with the Phantom Thieves, finally beginning to poke around the place when he had a chance.

When Yusuke was young, Madarame had once taken him along to a pre-owned furniture store in order to replace a broken stool in the shack. Yusuke could remember trying to pass the time by reading through the spines on the arbitrarily chosen hardcovers that lined the sample bookcases in the showroom. Browsing through Akechi’s bookshelves in the main living area brought to mind a similar feeling. As he wandered by, Yusuke’s fingers ran over dictionaries, various reference books, and classics, all mingled alongside of well-known current bestsellers, in a way that looked far more staged than the utilitarian shelves of someone who read for leisure. It was as if Akechi only read so as to have a stock of ready-made topics for small-talk saved up, rather than to pass the time or enjoy himself.

The kitchenette was more of the same, more or less. It was spotless, with fruit set up in a bowl in the center of a two-person table, much like the simple still-lives Yusuke had been taught to draw as a beginner many years ago.

Of course, that was the only food to be found in the whole of the apartment. Yusuke confirmed this as he peered inside of the cabinets and fridge, save for some inedible odds and ends, such as a bottle of pancake syrup and a half-empty and expired bag of flour.

Generally, Yusuke found himself living on the left-overs Akechi brought home from the various restaurants he was invited to most nights. In truth, Yusuke supposed that he was eating more, and better here than he had been at the dorm, save for the nights that Akechi stayed in, not having received phone calls from the media or politicians, hoping to ply him with food that he would only politely nibble at.

Just as Yusuke shut the last cabinet door, he could hear the sound of keys in the front door lock. The door, and the apartment it led to, was new enough that the hinges did not so much as creak as it swung open. The next sound was that of Goro Akechi’s gentle voice chiming. “Honey, I’m home~”

Yusuke’s grimace upon realising the other boy’s return only deepened. The whimsical greeting sounded much like something Akira would have said in jest. Although, Yusuke realised, that was likely the desired effect.

Yusuke attempted to screw his face into a smile to match Akechi’s own, although one that he could instantly feel turning rancid on his lips, before oozing off into a scowl.

He would have thought that Akechi’s lips had been on his own often enough by now that he might have picked up their mannerisms, but that didn’t prove to be the case. How Akechi managed to smile like that, when he didn’t mean it, when he was empty inside, Yusuke didn’t know. He didn’t want to.

“Good evening,” he responded simply.

Although he hadn’t thought that his eyes had glanced toward Akechi’s hands, apparently the detective saw otherwise.

He set his briefcase down on the table before holding his gloved hands up in front of himself, showcasing how empty they now were. “No dinner tonight, I’m afraid,” he said, removing his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair before seating himself at the table. Clicking open the briefcase, he took out a stack of papers, not looking up from them as he continued, “It would appear as if it’s a real shame too, what with the fox finally slinking out of his den to forage and all.”

Soon after coming to stay with Akechi, Yusuke had begun putting to use the desk located in the apartment’s single bedroom, spending much of his free time there. If Akechi minded the space being overtaken by art supplies, he did nothing about it, going through his nightly paperwork instead at the kitchenette table. Although he had once made mention of the chalky smell of paint in his bedroom, Akechi’s senses had soon become distracted by other things belonging much more intimately to his roommate.

“No lavish banquets tonight, then?” Yusuke asked from where he had seated himself across the table. Where had he spent the past hours, if that where the case?

“Oh, there was.” Akechi smiled cheerfully over top of the paper he had been reading. “I threw it out.”

Having, in that case, no reason to stay at the table, Yusuke rose without another word, pushing in his chair in order to return to his current art piece left half-finished.

“Kitagawa,” Akechi called, causing Yusuke to pause as he turned to leave. “The fruit in the bowl is off-limits. Although, I’m hoping that you haven’t sunk so low as to the eat the decorations.”

* * *

 

With a sigh, Yusuke dropped himself onto the unforgivingly ridged wooden chair set before the desk. It was no wonder Akechi managed to stand up so straight, Yusuke thought as he rubbed at his eyes. Even five minutes of dealing with the other boy proved draining, and Yusuke could only hope that the workload spread out at the table would take him a decent amount of time tonight. However judging from previous nights, it didn’t seem likely. While Yusuke had always been more attuned to visual images than anything else, it was clear that Akechi’s mind favored the written word, given how quickly he devoured through the paper each morning.

Pushing sketch books and lose sheets aside, Yusuke located his phone. Upon waking it up, however, he discovered the notifications devoid of anything new beyond the continued buzz on the news over Akira’s staged suicide. Each time Yusuke saw the story scroll across the screen, the fact that it was all now likely for naught settled heavily in his gut.

It had foolish of him to have hoped for a message from Akira this late in the evening as it was. If there had been any plans to traverse the Metaverse, or even take a day off to spend time together, he would have gotten in contact straight after Yusuke and the others hadn't gotten out of school. Lately, their leader had been spending many of his evenings at the church with the shogi prodigy from Kousei. Although he would never pry, Yusuke couldn’t help but wonder- often when he woke in the middle of the night to find that the ceiling over his head was neither the one belonging to former sensei’s shack, nor was it the one once hanging over his dorm room- if Hifumi Togo was really nothing more than a simple confidant to Akira. Not to mention how she had fared during the fire. Although she apparently commuted to school, arriving the next morning to half of the dorms having been burnt to the ground would have had an effect on most of the students…

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi often kept the apartment eerily silent. At times Yusuke thought that he might prefer the baleful lamentations of the Mementos winds over the maddening stillness of Akechi’s bedroom.

The ring of keys jangled in a way that Yusuke probably might have found soothing under less stressful circumstances. Even so, he continued to fiddle with them where they hung from his belt, at a loss for what else to do with himself as he sat on the curb outside of Leblanc.

Akira hadn’t been home, and even if he had, he was still recovering from his ordeal during the interrogation. The memory of his leader and best friend covered in bruises and still half-drugged settled into the pit of Yusuke’s stomach so heavily each time he thought of it, that it felt almost as if Yusuke were the one being punched. Akira had sacrificed so much for the Phantom Thieves, he certainly didn’t deserve to be saddled with the problems of a homeless starving artist, and especially not while recovering from something like that.

Yusuke also hadn’t wished to intrude on Sojiro’s kindness in the café for too long a time, seeing as he didn’t have enough on him to pay for even a simple cup of coffee. Futaba was likely home in her room, however Yusuke wasn’t much in the mood to be teased, even if it was meant to be good natured (or at least Akira had once informed him that it was). Besides that, he wasn’t entirely certain just how she would function without Akira around as her lifeline, and Yusuke knew that he was a poor substitute for their leader.  

“Ah! In the mood for some coffee too, huh?”

Yusuke looked up incredulously to see the cheerful face of Goro Akechi, rubbing his gloved hands together as if it might have been actually possible for the traitor to feel any sort of warmth within himself at all.

“It has been getting nippy out, hasn’t it?” he continued conversationally.

Yusuke stood, letting the keyring fall back to his side as brushed the dirt off of his pants. “I hadn’t noticed.”

It was true, Yusuke had had more pressing matters on his mind all morning.

“Oh, by the way,” Akechi’s cheerful smile shifted downward into a mournful frown, as he placed a gentle hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened to Kurusu. It must be hard for you. I imagine that he must have been under so much pressure, that he felt as if his back were against a wall. It could happen to the best of us.”

The hand on his shoulder felt to Yusuke as if it were made of acid, about to burn him through to bone. He jerked away, only to be met with a chuckle from Akechi mingling with the chiming of the bell as he opened up the café door, vanishing inside.

Had he come back simply to gloat, surveying his handiwork in erasing a life that should have been present there? Yusuke wondered, resting up against the café wall while feeling certain that if he were to sit again, he would never get back up. Not for the first time that morning, he found himself wishing that he had managed to scrape something together for dinner the previous night.

If Akechi were playing the part of sympathetic friend, he was doing an abysmal job of it, having never texted the group even once after Akira’s ‘suicide’ to see how they were doing. Was he so confident in the job he had done in dispatching their leader that he need no longer play the part?

The bell on the door clattering for a second time interrupted Yusuke’s thoughts.

“Here, got you something.” Akechi pressed the hot travel cup to Yusuke’s cheek, before pulling it away again, holding it up before him with a tempting shake of the scalding contents.

“…Thank you.” Yusuke accepted the cup, holding it gingerly by the lid as he rubbed at his stinging cheek with the other hand. Akechi had neglected to take a cardboard sleeve from the counter, his leather gloves likely having been enough insulation for him. As much as he would have preferred not to accept anything from the traitor, the last of Yusuke’s cash was still stashed away in his desk drawer back in the dormitory that he was currently forbidden access to.

“Sakura-san seems to be handling things well, all things considered” Akechi commented, joining Yusuke against the wall as he sipped from his own cup. If the beverage burned his tongue, Akechi made no indication of it.

“The Boss is a strong man,” Yusuke replied truthfully. “He still has Futaba to care for after all.”

As Akechi lowered the cup from his lips, he gave a cautious sniff at the opening before frowning and turning to Yusuke. “You smell like smoke. Did something happen?”

From the way he asked it, brows knitted in concern, corners of his perfect lips turned ever so slightly, Yusuke could almost trick himself into believing that Akechi cared.

“A portion of the Kousei dorms went up in flames this morning.”

“That’s terrible!” Akechi exclaimed, “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

Yusuke shook his head. “I was fortunate enough to have been in class at the time, although they soon had us evacuate the studio as well just to be safe.”

 “Where you able to get your things out?” Akechi continued to be the perfect picture of concern. Likely, Yusuke realised, because he hadn’t been the cause of the incident, unlike the case with Akira. “I know how much pride you took in your art supplies.”

Yusuke shook his head, looking down at his coffee cup as if imploring the paper drink container to permit him entry to his room. “They refuse to allow anyone near the dorms for the time being. I’m uncertain as to how much damage I might find when I am able to return.” He had been trying his best not to think about the articles that he had sacrificed so many meals and other luxuries for potentially being ruined.

As Yusuke spoke, a buzzing arose from Akechi’s pocket.

“Looks like I’m needed elsewhere,” he commented, checking his phone, before stowing it once more and turning back to Yusuke. “Listen, you still have my number, don’t you?”

“I do…” Yusuke did indeed still have it from their last chat as a group, having forgotten to delete in the confusion of the past few days.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, alright?” Akechi turned to leave in the direction of the station, back turned to Yusuke as he spared time for an after thought, “Kurusu was a good man. I’m going to miss him too.”

 ~~~~~~

“Still not finished yet?” Akechi leaned over Yusuke’s shoulder, hands resting on either side of the of the chair’s back as he peered over to survey his roommate’s latest work. “You’re usually much faster than this, aren’t you?”

“It is far too silent in here,” Yusuke replied tersely. “I work more efficiently with background noise.”

Akechi often kept the apartment eerily silent. At times Yusuke thought that he might prefer the baleful lamentations of the Mementos winds over the maddening stillness of Akechi’s bedroom.

The gnawing in his stomach from being made to skip dinner didn’t help his progress on the piece either.

“It’s coming along well, though. It’s different; I like it.”

Both the top and bottom of the canvas were filled with angled shapes, bringing to mind something akin to the sharp teeth of an animal. In between them, the canvas was filled with a sea of red, some of it bleeding down into a space where one of the dentile shapes was conspicuously absent.

Yusuke craned his neck to look up Akechi standing behind him. As expected, Akechi’s face held the same expression it always did when he found time to watch Yusuke work. It was the same strange look he held as when Yusuke had caught him snatching glances at Akira during strategy meetings, the look of a child at a birthday party watching the guest of honor open up a present, a thick layer of jealously smothering some modicum of fondness.

“I could teach you,” Yusuke offered. Someone like Akechi, keeping so many things pent up as he was, could likely benefit from such a satisfying outlet for one’s thoughts and feelings. It was often times difficult for Yusuke to understand how others could muddle through life without art there to serve as a guiding light. 

“Maybe tomorrow.” Akechi yawned theatrically to prove his point, moving his hand from the chair back to cover his mouth. “It’s getting late.”

“I’ll be done in a moment,” Yusuke replied, laying down another brush stroke. Not only did he find the lack of white noise to be a hindrance to his usual pace, but the fact of painting flat on a newspaper-covered desk rather than on an upright canvas, as he was used to, was a source of frustration as well.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?” Akechi asked, seating himself on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs before planting his elbow on his thigh in order to rest his chin in his hand.

Yusuke could feel Akechi’s eyes, cold on the back of his head, like water droplets from rafters after a rain.

“I do.” Not for the first time while speaking with Akechi, did Yusuke begin to think the uncanny silence preferable.

“Is that an assignment, then?” Akechi pressed, voice far too lively for someone who insisted on turning into bed.

“It’s a personal endeavor.” While he did in fact have a project that was due for school soon, Yusuke needed the distraction that only working on an entirely selfish creative pursuit could provide.

“You could finish up tomorrow then, couldn’t you?” Akechi implored. “I have an interview first thing. You know how it is.”

Yusuke said nothing, continuing to paint, up until Akechi stood, crossing the room to switch off the desk lamp with a soft click. It had been the soul source of illumination in the room- save for the moon filtering in through the curtains- the loss of it causing Yusuke to blink in attempt to adjust.

He could feel a hand snaking down his arm then, finally coming into dim focus as it came to rest overtop the hand that held his brush, messy with paint.

If he was no longer to paint for the night, Yusuke at least wished to swish his brush around in the cup of paint water (poor maintenance as it was, it would have been better than nothing), however Akechi’s grip was firm, allowing for no movement beyond letting the go of the brush. It left an errant streak across the white portion of canvas before rolling to a stop on the newspaper.

Akechi tugged Yusuke up and out of the chair, as if he were a child requesting playtime from a begrudging guardian.

Even as Yusuke now stood before him, Akechi remained clutching his hand, raising it up to press against his cheek for a moment. Akechi’s skin was always surprisingly warm to the touch, especially under Yusuke’s perpetually chilled fingertips.

Wet paint from Yusuke’s fingers eventually left red streaks behind that could be seen even in dark of the room as Akechi finally allowed their hands to drop.

“You should wash up,” Akechi suggested, as if Yusuke was truly about to crawl under white sheets while covered in paint. Not that he hadn’t a time or two while in the dorms, but things were different now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment and let me know how you're enjoying this so far!  
> I hope it's not too confusing with the way the timeline switches back and forth, but I felt that it fit with the way the game itself plays with the flashbacks/flashforwards.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re all alike now, though, aren’t they?” Akechi reflected pensively. “They all unlock doors that you don’t have any access to, I mean.”

People-watching in the station at Yongen-jaya wasn’t nearly as fruitful as doing so over in Shibuya. The late-afternoon hour yielded hardly anything other than a near constant parade of commuters on their return home, interspersed only with occasional uniformed students returning home from clubs after class. Drab and lifeless, they put Yusuke in mind of the shadowed figures riding the lines alongside the Mementos rest areas.

“…Yusuke?”

“Aki-“ Yusuke narrowly stopped himself from saying the other boy’s name out loud as he turned, startled, to see his friend standing beside the bench where he sat. “My apologies, I was lost in thought and didn’t see your approach.”

Yusuke scrambled to stand, although immediately regretting it as another bout of wooziness swum through his head. It had been over twenty-four hours now since he had last had anything to eat, he realised grimly, save for the long-finished coffee Akechi had given him.

“No worries. I’m just surprised to see you here, is all. Usually you don’t come out this way without texting first.” Even with the hood pulled up over his head, this close up the bruises on Akira’s face were still painfully apparent, only serving to highlight the dark shadows just below the rims of his glasses. “Is everything alright?”

It was almost laughable, Akira asking that of someone else, mere days after having been beaten within an inch of his life, a dead man walking who had escaped being murdered only by faking suicide. Yusuke had no right to complain over anything, not when compared to his leader’s situation.

“All’s well,” Yusuke announced, hoping that he sounded more convincing than he felt. “I simply wished to indulge in some people-watching in a new venue. But tell me, how are _you_ faring? Are you on your way home?”

“Yeah. I just finished up at the arcade with Shinya.” Akira chuckled at the memory. “Every time I think that I’m getting better at that game, he still hands me my ass.”

Although Yusuke knew that playing with his young friend was actually a highly effective method of gun training, still he couldn’t help but frown. “As glad as I am to see you up and about, please don’t push your self too much.”

“The same can be said for you.” Akira clapped a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. If any vestiges of Akechi’s touch from earlier had lingered, Akira’s hand, warm and comforting like stepping out into sunlight after a storm, surely melted it away. “You look beat. Go home and get some sleep.”

“Yes, of course,” Yusuke lied.

After bidding farewell, Yusuke found himself taking yet another look at the timetable flashing above the ticket kiosk. Perhaps returning to Kousei would be the best course of action. He could ascertain if the situation had improved, and perhaps ask to stay with another student if his building was still off limits. Not that any names came to mind, of course, the other students in his year being less than particularly fond of him. There was always Akira’s friend, Togo, however Yusuke recalled Ann’s having explained to him at length discussion topics that were off-limits with girls. He seemed to remember that asking to spend the night with them was on the list.

“Kitagawa!” Not for the first time that day did Yusuke find his insides churning at the cheerful sound of Goro Akechi approaching him. This time, the detective toted two large shopping bags, neither of which had been in his possession the last time they had met. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Have you?” Yusuke asked dryly, at a loss for anything else to say. Hadn’t this game of false sympathy grown tiresome for him yet?

“You remember that text I received earlier?”

“I do.”

“Well it just so happens that I was called upon to look into a possible arson.” Yusuke’s eyes grew wide at this, to which Akechi reassured, “Oh, not to worry. It turned out to be someone smoking in their room when they shouldn’t have. It’s really such a shame when one person allows their own mistakes to harm others like that, isn’t it?”

“Did you happen to notice the state of Building B, by any chance?” Yusuke asked, not hoping for too much.

In response, Akechi held the bags out for Yusuke to take. “I brought you a souvenir.”

Yusuke sat back down on the bench in order to inspect the contents. Delving into the first bag, Yusuke’s hand hit something immediately familiar- his favorite brush, the one that had guided his hand through the majority of the strokes on Desire and Hope. Pulling out the rest of the contents, Yusuke discovered his current sketch book, alongside a blank canvas and one of his cheaper sets of paints.

The second of the two bags contained equipment that even Yusuke didn’t dare to pull out in a train station during rush-hour: His katana and rifle.

He blinked up at Akechi in surprise, uncertain of what to say.

Akechi chuckled. “I was able to sneak away and do some ‘shopping’, as it were.”

“How did you know which room was mine?”

“Like a good magician, a detective doesn’t reveal his secrets,” Akechi explained playfully, taking the seat beside Yusuke. “Although in the interest of telling you as much as I can, there was water damage to your room from the fire hose, I’m afraid. I salvaged what I could before they needed me again.”

Yusuke couldn’t imagine why Akechi was being so helpful all of a sudden. What more use could he have of any of his former teammates, if he truly thought their leader to be out of the picture?

“The room didn’t suffer direct damage from the blaze, then?” Yusuke asked cautiously.

“No,” Akechi replied, “But the one directly below your’s did, not to mention the water damage is pretty bad. I really don’t think they’ll be letting anyone back in for another week at the very least. I overheard that some of the more well-off students’ parents are putting them up in hotels for the time being.”

“I see,” Yusuke said with a grimace, fingers clenching around the edges of the sketch book he still held in his lap, the familiar raised texture of the cover doing little to sooth his nerves.

“Hey, listen,” Akechi began, face decked in earnest sympathy, as if he were some saint offering alms to a beggar. “If you’re still in need of a place to stay, I have room in my apartment.”

“Forgive me, but I cannot accept,” Yusuke refused without sparing a moment’s thought. It wasn’t any sort of misguided pride that led to Yusuke turning Akechi down. It simply was out of the question to stay with the traitor while their entire upcoming mission into Shido’s palace was on the line. Even without taking those circumstances into mind, Yusuke would far rather sleep on a park bench for the next week, rather than sleep under the same roof as Akira’s would-be murderer.

“You’d agree to it if I were Kurusu.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a fact that Akechi stated, his expression unchanging, still the gentle smile as painted-on as one in Yusuke’s sketchbook.

“Akira was-“ Yusuke began, before being sharply cut off.

“’Was’?” Akechi repeated. “That’s odd, because I could have sworn that I just saw him standing here speaking with you when I first entered the station a few moments ago.”

~~~

 

“I’ve always wondered,” Akechi asked, as he watched Yusuke set down his ring of keys on the desk with a clank. The only nightstand in the room was situated beside Akechi’s side of the bed, leaving the desk for Yusuke’s personal effects, in addition to his art. “Just what are those keys to?”

“One of them is from my time at Madarame’s place,” Yusuke explained as he crossed over to the bed, pulling back blankets running three layers thick. If Yusuke preferred to sleep under fewer, he never said as much. “I was slightly whimsical as a child, and given to forgetting my key when leaving for school. Madarame instructed me to begin keeping it at my side at all times. Another of them serves to open my room at the dorm.”

“What about the rest?” Akechi asked curiously from beside him, closing the book he had been reading in order to devote his full attention to the trivial conversation he had begun.

“Well,” Yusuke considered, eyes wandering toward the keys on the desk as if to remind himself as he perched on the edge of the bed. “I came across one wedged in a storm drain when I was young, and thus I added it to the ring with along with the first. Having the pair made the ring much more symmetrical. After that, I kept adding on whenever I would stumble across one.”

Akechi was no stranger to the need for frugal, unobtrusive hobbies and collections as a child, often playacting hero shows while waving swords he had cut from cardboard alone in his room when his guardians were asleep.

“They’re all alike now, though, aren’t they?” Akechi reflected pensively. “They all unlock doors that you don’t have any access to, I mean.”

Yusuke gave a soft snort, devoid of any mirth, as he continued to face away from his bedmate. “And what of it?”

In reply, Akechi leant over across the bed, steadying his hand on Yusuke’s shoulder as he pressed a kiss to the side of his downturned mouth.

Having washed up and changed, Yusuke was no longer covered in paint, but rather an old hoodie of Akechi’s. Although Akechi had grown accustomed to sharing clothing with other children while growing up in foster homes, there was something decidedly satisfying in seeing him make use of the gold star-adorned red hoodie that Akechi hadn’t used in a year or more, preferring to stick with stiff cotton button-ups during even more casual days. Unsurprisingly, both boys took the same size, both being of a similar build, give or take.

Yusuke didn’t resist as he was guided down onto the mattress.

Any artist of his caliber must have a robust imagination, and especially so with one as eccentric as Yusuke.

It was Akira’s palm’s sliding up underneath the sweatshirt that Yusuke probably shouldn’t have even bothered to put on, and Akechi knew this.

It was the open mouth of the leader who was too busy to spend time with him, hot and moist on the delicate skin of his neck, and Akechi didn’t care.

The _detective prince_ was also a thief.

“Kurusu doesn’t know what he had,” Akechi murmured absently into Yusuke’s chest, as his fingertips brushed over the growing bulge in his boxers.

An entire band of merry men that would follow him to the depths of Hell, a loving guardian, a sweet younger sister figure, both a mother and father waiting back home…

Although he wasn’t an artist- wasn’t _anything_ \- Akechi could still pretend as well, could pretend that the handsome boy he had claimed from Joker lay gasping on his sheets, long lashes fluttering shut, because they actually held feelings misplaced for each other.

* * *

 

Perhaps he should have listened to Akechi, Yusuke thought as the alarm on his phone came alive with nature sounds from where it still rested over on the desk, dragging him out of a troubled sleep. Although, he realised that turning into bed earlier would have likely only resulted in the other boy keeping him awake for longer. Either way, as things stood he now had to wake earlier than he had grown used to while staying at the dorms in order to commute.

However, when he attempted to rise, something warm and soft held him back- Akechi’s bare arm tossed over his chest.

Yusuke tensed his muscles, preparing himself to yank away, leaving Akechi to startle awake, until he caught a glimpse of Akechi’s face.

The morning light filtering in through the shades fell over a peaceful expression, the likes of which Yusuke had never noticed on the traitor’s face until now. This was different than the manufactured pleasant expression that he usually wore, the one that was pounded into shape and formed by his past, until it filled a mold ordered by adults. Instead, this was the same expression that Yusuke had witnessed on Akira’s face on that morning after he had slept over so many months ago, one of someone who slept contently, secure in their present company.

The realisation settled roughly in place of the breakfast that Yusuke knew that he wouldn’t be having.

Gingerly, he slid out from under both arm and covers, sparing another glance before retrieving his phone and the ring of keys.

Akechi always looked smaller, somehow, without his blazer, bare shoulders visible above the thick cocoon of blankets. Despite eating out at lavish restaurants multiple times per week, Akechi was almost painfully thin, only slightly less so than Yusuke himself.

Yusuke shook the sleep from his head. It was too early for such thoughts; he had a train to catch.

As he passed through the kitchenette after dressing for school, Yusuke couldn’t help but linger on the bowl of fruit, still centered on the table. The once pristine yellow fruits were now peppered with dark freckles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, a fade-to-black copout for now. Sorry about that, guys.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's kudos-ed and commented so far! I love writing this story, so I'm very happy that people are enjoying it, especially with this being a rarepair and all.
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr!  
> https://evil-muffins.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

The interior of Yusuke’s dorm room had been almost disappointing. As eccentric as the artist was, he appeared to have kept things fairly neat, more or less, save for a few precarious stacks of blank canvases and art books teetering here and there. However, it was clearly part of the controlled chaos favored by creative sorts who knew well enough that they would be using their supplies soon enough so that there was little sense in stashing them away.

After giving a reassuring pat to the plush lobster resting wistfully on top of the carefully made bed, Akechi made his way to the desk, beginning to leaf through the sketchbook left there.

A young school-child, an older business man- people-watching studies, he realised. Yusuke truly was a gifted artist, even a layman like Akechi could tell without a doubt. Each face was unique and lively to the point where Akechi thought that if someone where to ask him in that very moment to relate the entire life story of the person on the page, he would be able to do so with accuracy, based solely on the vitally imbued into each piece.

The crunching noise was decidedly satisfying as Akechi balled up the sheet containing a sketch of an all-too familiar boy with dark fluffy hair, face captured in the tranquility of a sleep made eternal in charcoal.

If Yusuke wished to draw his beloved leader again, it would have to be from memory.

Akechi had seen the way Yusuke looked at Akira during meetings in Leblanc, how Fox had stolen glances at Joker through the frame of his fingers while in safe rooms, or on the Mona Bus. It was the same look that Akechi had witnessed time and again on the faces of girls at his meet-and-greets. Not the ones that pushed their phone numbers into his hand, faces gleaming with delusion, but the ones that hung back, the ones with the sense to know when something was but an impossible dream.

Tucked beside the wastepaper can where the crumpled page had landed, Akechi discovered two paper shopping bags, each with the phrase ‘ _Yoshino-Iori Arts and Sporting Goods’_ emblazoned across them _._

Akechi dropped the sketchbook inside of the first bag.

There was a time in which Akechi himself didn’t have a home of his own to return to, if his austere single bedroom apartment could even be called that. Even now, if he flexed his fingers just so, his hand could still remember the weight of the bag he toted along from house to house, containing everything he owned.

A quick search under the bed yielded Fox’s model katana and rifle, wrapped loosely in a towel. Hardly a clever hiding place should the time come for dorm inspections.

Giving the room one final survey, Akechi tossed a brush and paint set into the first bag, before heading out back out into the hall.

Just as soon as it had closed, the door swung open again. The drawing of Akira only crinkled further as it was jammed into Akechi’s pocket.

What was Kitagawa trying to prove by living alone? Akechi wondered on the train ride back to Yongen-jaya. The artist had friends, ones that loved him, if not always in the way that he wished for. Although the group occasionally poked fun at him, it seemed to be well-intended enough, as far as Akechi could tell from his place firmly on the fringes. If he had been in Yusuke’s position, Akechi would have seized the opportunity to share a home side-by-side with a friend, holding it close like a treasure.

He didn’t have far to search after disembarking. Even during rush hour, the lanky, awkward artist stood out, as did the boy that he spoke with, clear as it was that he was trying to.

Casually, Akechi approached the ticket machine on the far side of the kiosk, out of sight from the other boys as he brought up the menu, pretending to purchase a ticket.

He didn’t need to hear their conversation; one look at Yusuke’s reverent expression as he spoke to the boy in hood, and Akechi saw all that he needed to know.

_Kurusu was alive._

The realisation tore through him like the page he had ripped from the sketchbook.

~~~~~

 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Akira to handle the situation, or didn’t think that he was up to the task, especially not when backed by their entire team, Yusuke pondered to himself on the walk from the station back toward Akechi’s apartment. The December air was brisk, urging his mind to race in order to catch up.

Their leader had dodged death once, and he could most certainly do it again, of that Yusuke had little doubt. He had, in fact, considered broaching the subject of the blackmailing during the Phantom Thieves’ meeting that had just concluded, however he had found it difficult to get a word in edge-wise.

The preparation for the impending infiltration into Masayoshi Shido’s palace had been causing a stir amongst the group. There had been talk of perhaps venturing into Mementos first in order to train, while also fulfilling Mishima’s latest tip. Others thought that diving straight in and serving justice as quickly as possible would be the best course of action.

Or at least that was as mush as Yusuke had been able to filter through the cotton in his head. The meaning in their words smeared together like watercolors over diluted.

“Yusuke?” Akira asked, waving his hand in front of Yusuke’s vacant expression, different from the one he often wore when plotting his latest masterpiece. “Are you alright? You didn’t…skip lunch _again_ did you?” Akira’s brow raised in a mixture of concerned disbelief.

“My apologies,” Yusuke hung his head, which wasn’t hard to do, considering how light it felt. “Even after you trusted me to take better care of myself…”

“Make sure you don’t land on me when you finally keel over, Inari,” Futaba jabbed, making a motion high above her head to indicate Yusuke’s considerable height.

Akira rolled his eyes as he rose from his seat at the booth. “Yusuke, I’ll heat you up some of the left over curry from the fridge. We can all just take five and regroup.”

Yusuke sighed, rubbing at his eyelids with the heels of his palms until colors blossomed, as the others went back to chattering amongst themselves, and Akira busied himself in the kitchen.

As ladle rattled against pan, and the scent of curry began to waft, tangling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, it hit Yusuke once again just why it was that he couldn’t yet tell anyone: Akira would surely put the entire operation on hold for his sake.

He could keep an eye on Akechi himself, and he owed Akira that much at the very least. Afterwards, he would come clean about the situation once Shido had met his downfall. One thing at a time. Perhaps by then the dorm would be repaired, and he could make a clean break from Akechi once and for all.

“Eat up,” Akira said, setting the steaming plate down on the table in front of Yusuke.

“You have my gratitude.” Yusuke smiled up at Akira, worries melting away for the brief moment it took for their leader to settle back down before he was folded back up into conversation.

Akira would do this for any member of the group who needed to eat, Yusuke tried to remind himself as he savored the first bite. Somehow the flavor had grown richer as it had developed overnight, or perhaps it was only due to the fact that it was the first thing besides plain water to cross his lips in quite sometime.

Ultimately, enough time had dragged on during the meeting that group had agreed to reconvene another day.

The walk back to the apartment was all-too short, and by the time Yusuke had finished mulling over the afternoon’s events, he found himself standing before Akechi’s door.

Yusuke’s fingers brushed briefly over the ring of keys at his side, before curling them to tap at the door. It was an odd feeling, the need to knock before entering his current residence. Even under the control of Madarame, Yusuke had been free enough to come and go most days, having been entrusted with a key of his own.

The door swung open almost immediately following Yusuke’s knock.

“Welcome home,” Akechi greeted, before moving aside and holding his arms crossed as he waited he for Yusuke to remove his shoes.

Without giving him time to move from the entryway, Akechi dipped his hand into the pocket of his sweater-vest, pulling out a small white box, which he handed over to the other boy.

“It’s an addition to your collection,” Akechi explained as Yusuke lifted the lid to find a key, gleaming under the artificial light of the apartment. Free from any scratches, it was untarnished, as if cut on that very day.

Yusuke fixed Akechi with a dubious look. “Is this-?”

Akechi nodded. “It’s a key to the apartment, so that you can come and go as you please.” Noting Yusuke’s skeptical expression, he added with a wry laugh. “What? You didn’t think that you were a prisoner here or something, did you?”

Yusuke might have thought that Akechi’s wounded expression was genuine, if he hadn’t known better.

The teeth of the key bit into his clenching palm as he silently cursed himself for falling back into the same sort of blind complacency that he had had while living with Madarame. Now that Akechi brought it up, he might very well have thought about the arrangement that way, had he considered it in regards to his own well-being at all. In reality, his primary concern had been about what his deal with the traitor meant to Akira and the upcoming mission. So long as Akira was safe, Yusuke felt certain that he could bare anything.

“Thank you,” he replied simply, not knowing what else to say, as he fastened the new key to hang alongside the others.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to everyone who's been supportive of this story so far! You might have noticed that the final projected chapter count keeps going up lol There are still quite a few things in my notes that need to happen yet, so I hope you'll stick around!
> 
> The next update might just a little slower because I'll be busy at Colossalcon East all weekend (I'll be at the Persona shoot as beach!Yusuke~)
> 
> I've been more active on my Twitter these days! https://twitter.com/mikan_komaeda


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m surprised to see you out here,” Akechi began suddenly, jolting Yusuke back to alertness. “I would have thought that you’d have felt more at home having the bed to yourself for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...In which Akechi takes a potato chip...  
>  and eats it.
> 
> This is a very serious fic.

“Y-you have no proof!” Yusuke stammered, leaping up from the station bench, only to nearly lose his footing, wavering slightly. “No one will believe that you saw him alive without any evidence. Your reputation will dive once again if the public hears you spouting nonsense.”

Judging by the quaver in his voice, it sounded more likely that he was trying to convince himself, rather than the detective.

Akechi shook his head, waving a finger as if in playful scolding as he leaned in toward the taller boy, keeping his voice at a hush. “Everyone will believe me, because I will continue to speak the truth- that the leader of the Phantom Thieves is dead. Of course,” he smiled pleasantly, “that truth can be made a lie once again quite easily.”

It wasn’t a failure if the first time was only treated as practice, he decided. The next time, he wouldn’t merely destroy Kurusu; he’d first take from him the boy who loved him. He wasn't certain how Kurusu had tricked him- likely some gimmick of the Metaverse, an exploit he should have foreseen- but he knew that it wouldn't happen again.

“…How?” Yusuke asked reluctantly, taking a step backward until he nearly fell backward onto the bench. “What do you want from me?”

“Let me take you in.” Very helpfully, Akechi took the shopping bags from Yusuke’s grip that had gone slack. “It’s win-win for you, really. The only one being put out in this situation is me. You get a roof over your head, and Kurusu spends another peaceful day hanging out with his precious friends that aren’t you. ”

A tethered calf led to slaughter, Yusuke followed steps behind as Akechi headed back to the kiosk in order to purchase an extra ticket back to the station nearest his apartment.

~~~

 

The opposite side of the bed had gone cold.

Yusuke only discovered this due to the fact that his lanky knees hadn’t connected with another warm body when he had turned over on the narrow mattress. The lack of reaction from his bedmate- who would usually mutter something Yusuke couldn’t make out, although making no effort to shift his own legs away from the knobby bones pressing into the backs of his thighs- was enough to rouse Yusuke fully into wakefulness.

It wasn’t hard to let curiosity get the better of you in the darkness; Yusuke had realised this a time or two while traversing the Palaces. He had noticed Makoto tensing up as they rode their living van though the tunnels, clinging onto Haru beside her, as if the shorter girl’s presence would conceal her from an imagined enemy worse than the ones who searched the strange rails for them. Yusuke, on the other hand, had always found a certain measure of calm in the dark. As an artist, he relied on his eyes, but darkness afforded him the time to listen to what his other senses had to tell him.

A salty aroma- snack food- greeted him as the darkness in the living area was broken apart by a soft glow from the TV screen, the soul source of lighting in the room.

Yusuke blinked in surprise, bringing into focus the form of Akechi, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the large-screen TV like a child on a Sunday morning, near enough to the screen so that he could hear the sound which had been turned down to be barely audible. Yusuke had never seen him use the TV before.

“Akechi…?” Yusuke ventured, voice rasping from disuse during the night.

To his surprise the other boy visibly started, spinning around to look at him, eyes wide, whites gleaming in the dimness.

With Akechi’s head out of the way, Yusuke could now see a group of characters gallivanting about on the screen that were oddly familiar- a handful of men, and one woman, all in single-color suits that would look far more pleasing mixed-and-matched. …What had Futaba called them?

“…Featherman?”

“’ _Phoenix Ranger Featherman R’_ ,” Akechi corrected without a hint of irony, as he rubbed at his eyes with one hand, reaching for the remote with the other.

“No need to turn it off for my sake,” Yusuke said, seating himself on the couch. Perhaps he was dreaming.

Akechi turned back to the screen, drawing his knees up into his chest. “I was about to turn it up, actually, seeing as you’re awake now and all.”

Although Akechi did turn the sound up, Yusuke could still hardly hear it, the characters’ voices creating low sounds that might have been words if he had been sitting closer. In his sleep-addled mind, Yusuke soon began to imagine his own dialog as they watched. Blue- a sensitive and creative soul- was clearly in love with Red. As Red struck an impressive pose, Blue spoke. ‘ _Please allow me to capture that pose in ink once we return home!’_ Yusuke’s mind supplied, as his eyelids grew heavy.

Pink soon burst onto the scene, clearly stealing away Red’s attention. ‘ _I’m sorry, Blue, but Pink and I are-‘_

“I’m surprised to see you out here,” Akechi began suddenly, jolting Yusuke back to alertness. “I would have thought that you’d have felt more at home having the bed to yourself for a while.”

“I thought it best to keep an eye on you,” Yusuke replied, earning a laugh from Akechi.

It was true, Yusuke realised bitterly as the two fell back into relative silence, save for the white-noise of the children’s show, and the whir of a large, boxy unit that could only have been a VCR. For the past sixteen years, Yusuke had been to soul occupant of not only his bed, but even his bedroom as well. Even when moving into the Kousei dorms, he had elected to stay in a single occupancy room without much of a second thought. Sleeping alone was what he was accustomed to.

He didn’t hate sharing a bed with Akechi.

It wasn’t as if Akechi was forcing him to, exactly. If he had wanted to sleep on the couch, while Akechi might not have been pleased, Yusuke didn’t think that it would have been enough of an offense to break their deal over. Akechi had said it himself the previous evening, after all- Yusuke wasn’t a prisoner.

For as long as he could remember, Yusuke had always been quick to catch a chill. Each semester, he would long for the switch to winter uniforms. With an arm thrown across his chest, or a spine pressed up against his own, Akechi was warm.

Yusuke fought off a shiver. He should have grabbed a blanket on his way, he thought, jamming his hands into the pockets of his borrowed hoodie.

A sharp crunch sounded from the direction of the floor. Yusuke had thought that he had smelled some sort of snack food on the way in.

“Would you like one?” Akechi asked, as the credits finally began to roll, moving to the couch to sit beside Yusuke. He must have bought the chips on his way home from school that evening, because there certainly hadn’t been any edible food in the apartment before then, save for the now over-ripe fruit in the dish he had been forbidden from.

“You’d be doing me a favor, taking the rest of them off my hands,” Akechi implored with a sigh, holding out a chip far too close to Yusuke’s face, as if the only problem was that he couldn’t see it in the dark. “I really shouldn’t be eating extra calories right now, seeing as I have TV appearances all next week. You know how it is…”

Yusuke, in fact, did not. Could that be the reason Akechi kept so little food around, even though he could certainly afford it? Was he really so desperate to be adored by strangers that he would deprive himself so? He was so thin already, Yusuke thought, recalling the sensation of his fingers running over the unforgiving lines of rib-bones the night before last.

Despite himself, Yusuke felt a wave of what could only be called pity. Yusuke himself had never been all that particular on what others thought of him (it would have been fighting a losing battle anyway, he often told himself. It was far easier to not take into consideration the opinions of those who thought him odd, rather than to suffer under something he had little chance to amend). Once again, Akechi’s ways of thinking were foreign to him.

At the same moment Yusuke opened his mouth to speak, Akechi pressed the chip to the side of his mouth. It slid inside roughly, the sharp edge of it scraping soft tissue, as Akechi’s fingers brushed the inside of his lip, coming away slightly wet.

Yusuke chewed, savoring the saltiness provoking saliva to flood his mouth.

Akechi wiped his damp fingers on the shoulder of Yusuke’s hoodie. If he had been trying to treat himself- for some imagined victory? Self pity?- he had made a wise choice in the gourmet brand of chips. He could only remember Madarame having them around the house once or twice, and then only allowing Yusuke a handful.

Akechi’s hand lingered, lips pressing a kiss to Yusuke’s throat, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The projected chapter count may have gone up again. Whoops. 
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments <3 The Depression's been eating me lately, but they always brighten my day. This is the longest fic I've ever managed to write, and it's all thanks to your encouragement!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi thought that he should laugh, but he also thought that Yusuke shouldn’t say such things.

Yusuke found himself wide awake that morning, thanks entirely to a short journey to the hard floor. Blinking up at the ceiling, stunned for a moment, he pulled himself into a seated position, rubbing at the back of his head as he turned to see Akechi still curled up on the couch behind him.

It was a wonder that Yusuke hadn’t tumbled off earlier, Akechi’s arms clamped around his bare chest having been the only thing keeping him from doing so until now.

Reaching across the coffee table, Yusuke grabbed for the remote, shutting off the TV that had gone to static hours before, the VHS long having run out of tape.

As the screen went dim, Yusuke’s stomach dropped as he glanced the display on the ancient VCR: 9:22am. Just as quickly, however, relief washed over him in the form of the realisation that it was still only Sunday. The days had been plodding by ever since the victory at Niijima’s palace, and Akira’s subsequent arrest. Up until that point, each day since he had fallen in with Phantom Thieves had felt like a whirlwind, leaving him with the satisfying exhaustion of having fulfilled a purpose as he sank into bed each night. These days, however, he felt drained for a very different reason, walking on eggshells around Akechi whenever the two were home at the same time.

Locating the hoodie that had been carelessly tossed aside during the night, Yusuke began to pull it back over his head, before thinking better of it as he caught another glimpse at the resting form of Akechi out of the corner of his eye.

Perhaps there was time for a shower before he awoke.

Often times- when he was experiencing art block, or Madarame was running him ragged producing art day and night, or times when he had run out of food once again- Yusuke found that a hot shower would put him in a clearer frame of mind.

Likely, the same held true for Akechi as well, Yusuke thought as the water rushed over him, sweat and lost sleep washed away unseen, joining the iridescent bubbles circling the drain. Now and then in the evenings, Akechi would disappear for a long time while, the gentle rush of running water generating a white noise, the lack of distraction allowing Yusuke the freedom to paint as he pleased. Although, this came at the expense of Yusuke himself finding time to shower as often as he might have liked, Akechi only freeing up the glass stall at so late an hour, hot water all but used up.

As ready to face the day as he would ever be, Yusuke emerged, toweling off his hair as he entered into the living room. There was a point in which Yusuke had considered growing his hair out in order to project a more artist-like aesthetic, yet he found himself glad that he decided otherwise. Akechi’s longer strands always took more time to dry, Yusuke thought, suddenly remembering the dampness of it tangled around his fingers a handful of nights ago.

Currently, the detective was still asleep on the couch. He didn’t have any interviews or work lined up for the day, then, Yusuke surmised as he pulled the phone from his pocket, checking for any activity in the group chat. Once again, it seemed that no one was yet ready to tackle Shido’s palace. As frustrating as it may have been, the group’s hesitation was understandable-  they all needed to be fully prepared. Still, it likely meant that an entire day spent with Akechi lie ahead of him.

Resting the towel across his shoulders, Yusuke crossed the room, standing over the couch as he formed a frame with his fingers, lining it up to enclose Akechi’s peaceful face.

* * *

 

If it weren’t for the stiffness in his neck prodding him into wakefulness, Akechi thought that he might have slept until the afternoon. Although he had fallen asleep on the couch before, he had never slept so soundly there. How long had it been since he had taken a day to completely clear his schedule?

At the same time that Akechi began to open his eyes, he became aware of a soft, scritchy noise considerably near to his face.

“Ah. Good morning,” Yusuke greeted from his place perched upon the edge of the coffee table, only briefly glancing up from his sketchpad, pencil never leaving the page. “Might I ask you to remain stationary for a moment?” he added, upon noticing Akechi moving to sit up.

Akechi watched silently as Yusuke’s hand flitted across the page, each line carving another stripe of jealously into the detective’s stomach. “You make it look so effortless,” he chimed, far too chipper for anyone who just awoke.

“Your face makes it so,” Yusuke replied matter-of-factly, not looking up this time. “I suppose many would say that you’re classically attractive.”

Akechi thought that he should laugh, but he also thought that Yusuke shouldn’t say such things. “And what do you think?” The textured fabric of the cushion pressed into his cheek as he spoke. It would likely leave a pattern on his face whenever Yusuke let him get up.

“I think that you’re very symmetrical.” The soft thud of the sketchbook folding shut punctuated Yusuke’s assessment.

“Fair enough.” He did allow a laugh this time, however hollow. “Am I free to go now?”

“Of course,” Yusuke replied, picking up the teacup that had been sitting beside him on the table. “By the way, I left a cup brewing for you in the kitchen. I’ve found that green tea is quite useful for curbing hunger.”

“Hmm. Don’t mind if I do,” Akechi said, heading for the kitchen with Yusuke trailing after.

“My offer still stands,” Yusuke stated plainly as Akechi stood sipping at his tea, the sweet tang in the air of over–ripe fruit emanating from the table mingling with the astringent scent wafting up from the cup.

“Offer of what?” His former teammate had already offered up more of himself than Akechi could ever have hoped for.

“Art,” he replied. “I’m still willing to teach you…that is if you have the time today.”

Akechi swirled the contents of the cup Yusuke had chosen for him, smiling woodland creatures that had been resigned to the very back of his cabinet parading around the rim as he watched as the leaves chase each other around the liquid. Had he always preferred coffee before his first visit to Leblanc, Akechi wondered vaugely. Years of drinking the bitter stuff out of habit- like a good detective should, like a boy living on his own, playing at being an adult should- made it hard from him to recall for certain.

“I think that I might like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but I thought it might be better than keeping you waiting any longer! I've just been super busy lately, first with being on staff for my anime club's mini con, then prepping for NYCC (catch me as school uniform Yusuke there tomorrow~)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi thought that he had never seen Yusuke laugh before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than with some Akekita? 
> 
> Unlike last chapter, this one starts off with a flashback once again. Longer chapter this time to make up for the last one! Finally made it past 10k words ahhhhh

“You’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

Rather than an invitation, it sounded far more like an order than Yusuke was entirely comfortable with.

“Thank you for the offer, however the couch will be sufficient.” Yusuke crossed his arms, lingering at the bedroom door frame, as if the threshold teetered on some unseen precipice directly overlooking Hell.

The bed was considerably narrower than one would expect to find in an apartment as upscale as Akechi’s, although it did allow more room for the bulky desk that sat brooding beneath the window. Although the modest collection of Yusuke’s belongings that Akechi had managed to retrieve for him had already been neatly arranged upon it, Yusuke did wish that Akechi would have taken some clothing for him as well. He didn’t relish the thought of sleeping in his school uniform, no matter where he lay his head.

“May I ask why?” Akechi’s question seemed born of genuine curiosity, rather than offense, causing Yusuke to pause and consider.

“I don’t wish to share a bed with the man who attempted to murder our leader.” Yusuke could feel a pressure lifting off his shoulders at finally voicing the fact of the betrayal to Akechi’s smug face. It had been exhausting that morning pretending as if he hadn’t known what the traitor had done, on top of everything else that had occurred.

“Fair enough,” Akechi conceded, sitting on down on the bed with a little bounce. At least he didn’t deny the nature of their situation, Yusuke thought. “Just think about it, though? I mean, it is pretty comfy. I had to settle for a smaller frame since I went all out on the mattress.” He patted the spot beside him in demostration.

“I really would prefer not to,” Yusuke insisted, frown only deepening.

“Suit yourself.” As Akechi stood, Yusuke thought that he caught the beginnings of a scowl before Akechi turned to his dresser, digging a bit, until finally tossing a bundle of fabric over his shoulder. “You can sleep in this tonight. I’m going to grab a shower.”

Akechi disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, leaving Yusuke alone with his thoughts and a worn hoodie.

Reluctantly, Yusuke finally entered the room, taking another glance at the few art supplies spread out neatly beneath his katana. Although working on his art typically relaxed him, Yusuke found himself with no muse on that night, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him all at once. Even unbuttoning his uniform top proved a near Sisyphean effort, his generally deft fingers fumbling over each plastic round, until he was finally able to slip the shirt off, folding it neatly over the back of the chair.

Unfolding the hoodie, he found that it smelled vaguely of flowers. It took Yusuke a moment, but he recognised the scent- the good brand of detergent, the very same as Madarame had made him use when back when had been made to do the laundry for him. Yusuke’s own clothing, on the other hand, had been relegated to the cheap one-hundred yen store stuff that always left him itchy at night.

Pulling it on over his head, he found it to be comfortable enough, the fabric having a well-loved feel that reminded Yusuke of the hand-me-downs he had often received from Madarame’s other pupils as they grew up and moved on.

Experimentally, he perched on the corner of the bed. As Akechi had said, it did seem to be temptingly soft, much more so than the one that had come included in his dorm room.

Perhaps closing his eyes for a moment or two would rest his mind, allowing him to process the situation at hand more clearly, he thought, lying back on top of the comforter, plush enough to be nearly a mattress in its own right.

Although, was it even wise to chance sleep at all with Akechi just around the corner? He wondered, eyes drifting shut in spite of his trepidation. Perhaps he planned to pick off the Phantom Thieves one by one, leaving Akira for last in order to devastate him before finally taking him out as well. Yusuke chuckled to the empty room. The joke would be on Akechi in that case. Yusuke was clearly the least valuable member of the group, and he was certain that Akira found him something of a burden, as much as he ached for the contrary.

Still, he couldn’t say that he hadn’t entertained stray fantasies of crawling into bed next to Akira during the night he had slept over in the attic. There must be a certain comfort in falling asleep next to another warm body, he thought. Even so, Yusuke couldn’t help but think back to that morning, and the feeling of Akechi’s hand on his shoulder.

~~~~

“I’m not even sure where to begin,” Akechi admitted, pencil wielded over the paper as if he were about to impale it as punishment for its unwillingness to spontaneously produce an image.

“Well,” Yusuke began, tucking his own pencil behind his ear. “There are two methods: For one, you can try to visualize a concept before committing it to the page. The other thing that you might try is to, for lack of better word, _doodle.”_

The way that Yusuke said the last word made it sound to Akechi as if mere doodles were beneath him, a lower form of art. “I’ll take the doodle, then,” he decided cheerfully.

“Very well,” Yusuke replied, flipping to a fresh page in his sketch book. “There’s not much that I can do to help you in that case. Just try to move your pencil around the page until the lines strike your fancy, then run with it, and I shall do the same.”

Cautiously, Akechi put pencil to paper, beginning to lay down a series of squiggles that reminded him far too much of teenage girls wasting class time by scrawling in their planners, daydreaming over whatever heartthrob they had last seen on TV.

“I was always jealous of creative people while I was growing up, you know?” he mentioned off-handedly, not looking up from the paper.

“Oh?” Yusuke did turn his attention toward Akechi, however, seated on the opposite end of the table. “You’re a talented detective and actor both, are you not? No one person can expect to accomplish everything…”

 _Except for Akira Kurusu_. The name hung in the air between them, untouched like the bowl of fruit still languishing uneaten.

“Well, yeah. I mean, there’s an innate intimacy in sharing art, a connection between the creator and viewer. It’s a way to get yourself out there. The idea’s always appealed to me, I guess.” Akechi finished with a shrug.

“Back when I lived with Madarame, producing art for him day and night, the only connection I made with my art was through his greedy eyes. Now, I only paint for myself alone.”

“I suppose that’s admirable, in a way, but it’s not healthy to deny yourself,” Akechi countered.

“So says the man who refuses to let himself eat properly,” Yusuke retorted flatly.

“Come over here and tell me what you think of this.” Akechi gestured toward his drawing after a time. “Help me fix it up, and we can go out to dinner tonight. My treat.”

If he was taking the day off anyway, might as well go all out. He could make up for it another day, he thought, and besides, his food blog was beginning to lose followers due to the lack of reliable updates.

A flash of interest lit up in Yusuke’s eyes at the prospect of a proper meal. “Let’s take a look.”

Standing, Yusuke walked around behind Akechi’s chair, bracing a hand on his shoulder as he leaned in to inspect the piece.

The casual nature of the touch surprised Akechi, to the point where he had to hold himself from recoiling. All physical contact up until that point had been initiated by Akechi alone.

“Is this meant to be us?” Yusuke asked, spying amid the squiggles and half-formed shapes the crow perched on a branch, looking pensively downward at something that may have been a fox.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hmph. Well, if you’d like to know what I think, you’re doing quite well…but here, try this…” Yusuke placed a hand overtop Akechi’s, long fingers steadily guiding Akechi’s over the page, transforming the simple lines he had already put down.

“That’s incredible,” Akechi marveled, admiring their combined handiwork. He hoped that Yusuke believed his sincerity, because he truly did mean it.

Once they had exhausted pencil drawing, Yusuke went on to instruct Akechi in the art of water color, using the bowl of fruit as a still life. All in all, Akechi found that the most valuable lesson to come out of the venture was that the paint water cup should be kept no small distance from one’s tea mug.

Akechi thought that he had never seen Yusuke truly laugh before.

 

* * *

 

“Hmm, try this one,” Akechi suggested, holding another dress shirt on a hanger up in front of Yusuke, who hesitantly reached out to take it.

“If we both go out to dinner dressed up like this, might your fans not be upset if they happen to spot us?”

“You mean they’ll think we’re dating?” Akechi snorted. “I wouldn’t worry about that. They majority of them have deluded themselves into thinking that I’m interested in dating women. In fact, I think they’d appreciate seeing a guest star on my food blog now and again.”

Still appearing skeptical, Yusuke slipped on the shirt, the black fabric complementing his dark hair nicely.

“Ah, perfect!” Akechi praised, placing his hands on either side of Yusuke’s collar in order to straighten it as Yusuke began to do up the buttons. “It suits you much better than it ever did me. I prefer white, myself.” He took hold of the button just below the one Yusuke was in the process of guiding into its hole, doing it up for him, before continuing on to complete the rest. While his fingers weren’t as slender and deft as Yusuke’s, he was used to quick clothing changes in dressing rooms while on set.

Next came the tie. “You seriously don’t know how to tie one?” Akechi asked in mock disbelief, looping the accessory around Yusuke’s neck, long and graceful, giving him the appearance of being even taller than he actually was.

“Yes, but you don’t know how to make friends without the use of blackmail.”

Akechi made certain to pull the knot considerably tight.

* * *

 

Dinner went on well-enough, Akechi having chosen an out-of-the-way place that his fans would be unlikely to stumble into, while also having the benefit of not having been featured on his blog yet.

There was something to be said for dinning with someone who appreciated food as much, or even more so, than Akechi himself did, rather than some TV exec or police big-wig who spent thousands of yen on dinner each and every night. There was something about the way that Yusuke’s eyes sparkled as he brought fork to mouth, careful to savor each bite in between soft noises of contentment, that left Akechi more invested in his companion’s enjoyment than his own.

Not only that, but it was nice to have some photos for his blog taken by another person rather than nothing but selfies. For not having much photography experience, Yusuke’s artistic eye still allowed for some interesting angles that Akechi wouldn’t have thought of. The outing would even come with the added bonus of his readers being led to wonder just who it was seated across the table from Akechi that he would trust with his phone.

“Though, I am led to wonder- how do you manage to run a website-“

“A blog,” Akechi corrected. How Yusuke managed to skate by as teenager with so little technological literacy, Akechi would never know.

“A _blog,_ when you practically starve yourself?”

“People eat with their eyes first,” Akechi pointed with his fork. “Any artist should know that.”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for the meal,” Yusuke said once they returned to the apartment. His smile spoke sincerity rather than obligation. “I rather enjoyed it.”

In response, Akechi reached out, grabbing for the tie-still done up chokingly tight-pulling Yusuke in to claim sweet repayment.

 

* * *

 

Even with just the bare minimum of care, the blade already shone brighter as Akechi continued to polish it with the silverware cloth he had fished out of his utensil drawer. Although the Phantom Thieves’ weapons were meant to be mere replicas in the real world, Yusuke’s katana was sharp enough to injure if someone were to get careless.

Although Akechi knew how to properly dismantle a gun for cleaning, there was definitely still something to be said for the rhythmic intimacy of shining a sword.

As he reached the blade's tip, the sound of a key turning in the front door caused him to pause for only a split-second, before the sound of the door being thrown open prompted him to start, blade nicking his hand.

“Kitagawa, welcome home!” he greeted cheerfully as he could manage, pressing the cleaning-cloth over the weeping cut.

Yusuke stormed in, handsome features twisted into a frightening scowl. They had been getting along so well the past two days, so much so that Akechi had nearly forgotten how moody the artist could become.

"Bad day at school?"

“My room back in the dorm…It was never truly water damaged, was it?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Akechi food blog mention is from [one of the anthology manga](https://sorairomafuraa.tumblr.com/image/164702598056)


End file.
